EVER CATCH HOLD OF THE edge of a metaphor that no amount of teasing will out? That’s why I call the blog “Metaphorager” in fact: I sometimes feel like Newton’s beachcomber looking for the one bit of seawrack which will reflect the whole in some previously unseen and unillumined way. And on this sunny...
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THIS MATTERS.
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THE GUY IN THE BACK seat of Cash Cab is heavily into the Neo-Beat Chic (hip snap-gnosis, deprecate gesture): Shirt buttoned horn rimmed open face serious sandwich, And I guarantee he’s wearing although I can’t see them scuffed brown oxfords. O my tribe, my freakish tribe; freaks and smarters, lovers and waders; It seems...
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“HERE ARE YOUR PICTURES,” SAID the woman at the scanning shop. She handed me a package containing photos of my wife as a little girl — photos we can now send / have sent to others who didn’t expect them. “Thank you,” I said. “This put a lot of smiles on a lot of...
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AT LEAST ONCE IN ONE’S life, one should encounter a place where one is in the minority: it has the potential to sharpen the senses, humble the soul and question the assumptions. A different, but equally primal, experience, can be had by entering a place where one’s species is in the minority — or...
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One kept thinking there had to be another way of looking at it, of really seeing *I*T*, and kept lamenting that particular brand of consciousness so limited in terms of time, space and perception. Oh, to soar as a school of fish — to feel the sea passing between its thousand fins now this...
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RELIGION IS TO CHEERLEADING AS mysticism is to quarterbacking. P. S. — For those so doing today, have an easy fast (and a final one).
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